


Halo

by doctortrekkie



Series: Break Me Down and Build Me Up [10]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: An excuse for me to infodump about the Concubine Wars, Camilla Knows What's Up, Corrin remembers Silas, Gen, I don't THINK I need the graphic violence tag since it's all going to be secondhand but, Leo... Doesn't, Oblivious Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, because I think it's dumb that she doesn't, but I gotta set it up now huehue, let me know if you guys disagree and I'll slap it on, read a really random headcanon and decided to adopt it, you guys aren't gonna know what it is for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctortrekkie/pseuds/doctortrekkie
Summary: Half a year remains until Corrin turns eighteen, and her siblings cling fast to the hope that that day will bring her salvation and her freedom. Until that day, though, hope is all the remains.In the meantime, though, a seemingly innocent moment brings up memories that are anything but innocent.(Takes place two years before the beginning of Fates and seven months afterStarlight;May 634)





	1. Break Your Fall

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:
> 
> First off, you may have noticed the Heart of Stone series has all been dated in their descriptions now. This is mostly for my own reference, and I'll say right now that it's no relation to either our calendar or Awakening's; they're all separate systems of dating that will be expanded upon at a later date (but I honestly couldn't keep track of everything without giving them Actual Dates so that's a thing now).
> 
> Secondly, I'm absolutely one of the people who ascribes to the headcanon that Leo doesn't have a wyvern rider reclass because he's afraid of heights, and also the headcanon said fear is a result of the Concubine Wars. I'll be expanding on both those things in the second half of this fic. Also on the subject of headcanons, this entire fic is a result of a completely off-the-wall headcanon that I read on Serenes Forest that made ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE... until it did, and I immediately adopted it. No, you guys don't get to know what it is yet ;)
> 
> Lastly, song of the fic is [Halo by Starset](https://youtu.be/7Qw4IpcIMqw) (I promise I have fics planned in this series that AREN'T Starset songs *shot*)

_When you’re backed against the wall, I could be the one who’s always there to break your fall, you are not alone, you’re the sun, you’re the day, the light that guides me through..._

 

In just over a month, Leo would be seventeen. Which meant that in slightly less than half a year, Corrin would be eighteen.

He had never been especially devout when it came to the world of prayer, yet he still couldn’t help but send one up that she’d finally get to leave this place when that day came.

Leo didn’t let his thoughts come out through his words. “You know,” he said conversationally, leaning against the exterior stone of the tallest of the Northern Fortress’s spires, “if one studies in the library, one needn’t worry about all their studying blowing away.”

Corrin, sitting on the walkway, didn’t bother to turn around. Instead, she cast her words over her shoulder, still focused on the papers strewn around her that were weighted down by rocks, sticks, and various other baubles. “One would also be wasting away a perfectly lovely day.”

“You have a strange definition of lovely,” Leo replied, resisting the urge to shiver as the wind blew past, carrying the smell of rain with it. Judging by the clouds, he couldn’t imagine it would be more than an hour before the storm reached them.

“Or you’re just spoiled,” Corrin replied with a shrug. “Did that occur to you?”

Leo crouched down beside her, careful to avoid her work as he said, “Of course it crossed my mind, but it was quickly dismissed for its preposterousness.”

Corrin glanced up, rolling her eyes in his direction, though the gesture was belied by the fondness of her features. “You’re so arrogant.”

“Can you call it arrogance if it’s true?” he returned thoughtfully.

“Don’t you wax all philosophical on me,” she said, aiming a punch at his shoulder.

“It’s a genuine question, Corrin,” Leo said.

“Uh-huh, sure it is.”

Leo settled himself fully on the walkway beside her, crossing his legs as his head fell into a quizzical tilt at the spread of her papers. “...Is this all actually helping you?” he asked, examining what seemed to be a completely nonsensical organization.

“Not everyone can read something once and remember it forever, Leo,” Corrin said with a sigh, propping her chin in her hand. “Especially not…” She waved her free hand absently. “Political stuff.”

“Incredibly dry and boring? Yes,” Leo agreed. “Necessary? Unfortunately, also yes.”

“I know,” Corrin said, downcast. “I know.” Sighing again, she moved to retake her quill.

Silently, Leo intercepted her hand with his. “You’re allowed to take a break, you know,” he said quietly.

Corrin quirked a brow at him. “You? Telling me to take a break from my studies? Who are you and what have you done with my little brother?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m just pointing out—”

“Imposter!” she cried, wriggling backward. “Fiend! Tell me—” She broke off, unable to contain a giggle before trying again, “Tell me what you’ve done with Leo!”

Leo shook his head. “I locked him in the library about three days ago,” he said deadpan. “I don’t think he’s noticed yet.”

Corrin’s giggles turned into full blow gales of laughter, her hand clapped over her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle it as tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

“It’s really wasn’t that funny,” Leo insisted, crossing his arms.

“But you _wouldn’t,_ either!” she cried. “If someone actually _did_ lock you in the library we wouldn’t know for _months!”_

He sniffed. “Glad to know I’d be so missed. Maybe I’ll just stay home next time everyone comes to visit.”

“You’d miss _us,”_ Corrin replied in a sing-song voice.

“Would I?”

“Okay, now I know it’s you. No fake could be that rude.”

“You call it rude,” Leo said with a shrug. “I call it a cutting wit.”

“That’s the same thing.”

They fell into silence. Leo glanced up, watching the shift and swirl of the ever-darkening clouds overhead. “It’s been a long time since we’ve all been here together,” he finally said.

“I know,” Corrin whispered. “Especially for more than just a day trip.” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “I’ve missed it.”

“Me too,” Leo admitted. When they’d been younger—far younger, when Corrin had first come into their lives—he, Xander, and Camilla had spent nearly a week out of any given month at the Northern Fortress. When Elise had grown old enough to join them, their trips had seemed to come even more frequently. Leo’s room in the Northern Fortress had become as much of a home as his room in Castle Krakenburg.

Then Xander had grown old enough to begin training with the military, and their visits had dropped off. Oftentimes Camilla, Leo, and Elise would see Corrin without him. When Camilla took to the field as well, sometimes only one or two siblings could coordinate their schedules enough to make the trip at any one time. Once _Leo_ had received Brynhildr and began serving with Xander, it seemed as if the only time all five of them managed to be together was for birthdays.

Garon had gone to Cyrkensia that week, though, leaving no outstanding orders in his absence, and for the first time in longer than Leo could easily remember, his family was finally _together_ for longer than a few hours at a time.

“I forgot how overwhelming it was to have you all here,” Corrin admitted, brushing her hair out of her face as the wind toyed with it.

“Is that why you’re hiding up here?” Leo asked.

“I’m not hiding, I’m studying,” she insisted.

“You should know better than to use that excuse on the one who invented it,” he shot back with a crooked grin.

“...Fair enough,” Corrin said. “But I like it up here. I can see the whole main courtyard.”

Leo resisted the urge to flinch—he had very purposely arranged himself to _not_ see the courtyard far below. “Keeping an eye on the entrance to your domain?” he asked instead.

Corrin shrugged, then said quietly, “It makes me think of the meadow you grew me last summer.” A slight smile tugged on her lips. “There’s still a crack in the flagstones left from the tree we climbed. It annoys Jakob to no end.”

Leo glanced away, hoping he could attribute the flush in his cheeks to the bite of the wind. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he said.

A beat passed. “It was to me,” Corrin replied.

Leo’s only thought in response was how _sad_ that was, that she spent her life so disconnected from the real world that such a small gesture from him still resonated so prominently with her almost a year later.

A small, quiet part of him wanted to storm his father’s throne room, to open his mouth and _scream_ that _why couldn’t he see what he was doing to her, keeping her here?_ Corrin’s home, her _prison,_ only continued to oh-so-slowly eat away at the light that had drawn all her siblings to her in the first place, desperate for the peace and innocence they could find nowhere within the confines of Castle Krakenburg.

Logic swiftly reasserted itself. Nohr was a harsh, cutthroat place; its king the stern and inevitable product of its culture. Leo might have been Garon’s son, but to challenge him so brashly would bring nothing but heartache crashing down on himself and the rest of his family. In the end, it would only make Corrin’s situation worse, to say nothing of the consequences that would be meted out to Leo himself.

If Xander were king, it might have been different. On the other hand, it was far from the only thing that would be different if Xander were king.

For now, there was nothing to be done but to keep his screaming locked away in his own head, where it could do no harm, and quietly undermine what brutality he could afford to. It was a skill Leo had found himself growing alarmingly good at once he’d put his mind to it, but every thought he’d had regarding Corrin had come up dangerously, heartbreakingly impossible.

“We should head in,” Corrin said, drawing him back to the present. “Or we’ll get rained on.” Leo nodded, getting back to his feet while Corrin began to gather her papers together. “I don’t suppose you’d help me carry some of these—oh, shoot!”

It was a stupid thing, really. One of her papers had fluttered out of her grasp before she could reach it, floating through the air in a lazy but hurried spiral. Corrin jumped for it, her hand reaching valiantly as she leaned over the parapet.

_“Corrin!”_

Leo sprang forward without a thought, heart in his throat and his arms outstretched, uncaring of the notes torn beneath his feet.

_Scraped fingers, torn nails, feet scrabbling for purchase on the stone walls that had none—_

Corrin fell back against him with a solid _“Oof.”_ The force of the impact— _steady, real, she’s okay—_ didn’t stop him from fisting his hands in the folds of her tunic. “What was that?” she asked, half twisting in his grasp to send him a querying look.

Leo tried to take a steadying breath and only found himself blurting “You could have _fallen!”_ in a tone that resembled something too near to panic.

_Screaming, the crack of bones, blood on the ground below, thank the gods it hadn’t been him—_

“I wasn’t going to fall,” Corrin snapped, an edge of affront in her tone as she pushed his hands away—she’d caught the paper, somehow, he noticed. “I’m not a child.”

He sucked in through his teeth, forcing himself to take a step backward. His palms burned where they’d rested on her, some tiny voice in his head seething _unseemly_ for reasonings he couldn’t think clearly on at that moment. Finally, after a hard swallow, he forced himself to speak. “My apologies,” he said in a brittle tone. “I suppose I overreacted.”

“...It’s fine,” Corrin said after a long moment. “I’m fine.” Her face melted into something a little softer. “...Are you fine?”

Leo scanned desperately for something to lay his eyes on that wasn’t the courtyard far below (dangerous) or Corrin’s face (even more dangerous). He settled for locking his gaze on an ant navigating its way across the top of the parapet. “Yes,” he said after a long moment, his voice still a little tighter than he would have liked. “As I said, it was my mistake. Forgive me.”

Corrin chewed on her lip for a moment. “If you say so,” she said, a hint of concern on her face as she reached up to ruffle a hand through his hair. Leo bit back a sigh, though he couldn’t quite stop himself from leaning into the touch just a fraction.

“...Corrin, darling, are you up here?”

Camilla’s voice reached them only a moment before the tower’s door swung open to reveal her. Leo stumbled backward half a step, his face flushing red as guilt overtook him, as if he’d been caught sneaking dessert from the kitchens before supper.

_But it wasn’t as if he’d been doing anything wrong, had he?_

Alarmingly, as if he had, Camilla’s lips turned up into the slightest fraction of a smirk. “Ah, and here you are. Did you need some privacy?”

“We were studying,” Leo said, affronted.

 _“I_ was studying,” Corrin corrected. “Leo was pestering me.”

Camilla’s smirk turned up a little bit more. “Ah, I see.” She crossed her arms, the long fabric of her gauzy sleeves billowing in the breeze. “Well, maybe you should take your pestering inside before you both catch your deaths out here, hm?”

“We were just coming in,” Leo muttered, already striding for Camilla and the door. Coming in sounded like the best idea he’d heard in a week. Better to be away from the biting wind and uncomfortable questions and back on ground that was solid and flat and _low._

He did his best to ignore the fact he could almost feel Corrin’s gaze boring into his back.


	2. The World's Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corrin learns a few unpleasant things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a historic Heart of Stone first: Corrin's POV!

_ If it means the death of me, I won’t let go, and if I’m lost in the world’s shadows, I’ll use the light that comes to me from your halo... _

 

Rain drummed against the windows outside, the constant clatter interspersed by rolls of thunder making the glow of the candles in Corrin’s room all the warmer.

“Ta-da!” With a bounce and a flourish, Elise spun around Corrin, a hand mirror wobbling ominously in her grip.

“Careful!” Corrin said, half-rising from her stool to catch her little sister’s wrist. Elise squeaked, stumbling a little before she regained her balance, though thankfully she kept her grip on the mirror.

“Now, Elise,” Camilla said from her seat on Corrin’s bed, not lifting her eyes from the novel in her hands. “Do be cautious. It’s bad luck if you break that.”

Elise sighed, exchanging a slightly vexed look with Corrin that left the older girl muffling a snort. “Is it  _ really  _ though?” the younger princess asked.

Camilla glanced up, raising a brow in their direction. “Do you really want to find out, dear?”

Elise huffed again. “I guess not…” Her enthusiasm quickly returned, though, as she extended the mirror to Corrin again. “Anyways! Do you like it? I tried it on Camilla last week but her hair is almost  _ too  _ smooth for it, I think it looks better on you!”

“I love it,” Corrin told her, shifting the mirror to get a better look at the style even though her mind was a million miles away from her hair. She handed the mirror back to her sister, chewing on her lip. “Did… did either of you see Leo after dinner?”

Elise shook her head, her twin braided pigtails swinging around her. Camilla looked up again, saying, “I can’t say I did, dear. Why do you ask?”

“He just… seemed upset earlier,” Corrin said.

“Ah,” Camilla said, a slight smile turning on her lips. “Is this to do with a certain scene I stumbled upon earlier?”

Corrin blinked at her, her eyes slightly narrowed. Her elder sister’s tone implied…  _ something,  _ but Corrin couldn’t quite put a finger on what.

“What certain scene?” Elise asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I was studying up on one of the towers earlier,” Corrin explained. “One of my papers flew away, and I caught it, but…” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “He kind of freaked out at me.”

“Leo freaked out?” Elise asked, her eyes wide, as if Corrin had just told her Leo had figured out how to travel to the moon.

“For Leo, it was a freakout,” Corrin clarified. “He turned about the same shade as my hair and started going on about how I could’ve fallen. Which, I mean… was technically true, but it’s not like I was hanging over the railing or anything? I’m not a child that doesn’t know any better.”

From the bed, Camilla let out a tiny sigh, her eyes seeming slightly pinched as they fluttered shut. Both her sisters glanced over at her.

“...Camilla?” Corrin ventured.

After a long moment, Camilla shook her head. “It’s nothing, darling,” she said with a reassuring smile. A tiny furrow remained between her brows, though, as she slid a thin ribbon into her book and folded the novel shut. “You know how Leo gets sometimes. Come now, Elise, it’s about time for you to go to bed.”

Corrin gnawed on her lip again, tuning out Elise’s pouting. She ended up so spaced out, in fact, she missed her little sister’s exit, and only realized Camilla had crossed the room when she laid a hand on Corrin’s shoulder.

“If you want to know,” Camilla said in an undertone, “you’d do better to ask him. The only person who knows how Leo thinks is Leo, after all.”

Corrin nodded, rubbing her suddenly-clammy palms against her knees.  _ If you want to know. _

Was Camilla saying there  _ was  _ something to know?

And—more pressingly—would Leo tell her if there was?

Corrin slumped a little in her seat. She knew Leo didn’t care for heights, for all that he’d managed to hide it so well she hadn’t learned of that fact until less than a year ago. Perhaps that had been all Camilla meant?

She sighed as another roll of thunder cracked overhead.

 

~~~

 

The storm hadn’t abated an hour later, when Corrin padded down the dimly lit hall towards Leo’s room. She hesitated in front of his door for a long moment before lifting her hand to knock.

Another few seconds passed before he answered with a slightly muffled “Come in.” Corrin did, finding Leo sitting cross-legged on top of his bedding with a lone candle flickering on his nightstand. A book sat splayed open on his knees by long fingers, though Leo’s gaze had turned away from the pages to fix on Corrin.

She let out a soft huff, rolling her eyes. “You’re going to go blind by the time you’re twenty-five if you read in the dark like this,” she said.

Leo quirked a brow, quickly riposting, “Well pardon  _ me,  _ Mother.”

“Gosh, it must be starting already if you think I’m your mother,” Corrin replied. “I’m just Corrin. Your favorite sister!” With that, she plopped on the bed beside him, leaning over until her face was mere inches from his. “Can you see me now?”

“You’re as bad as Niles,” Leo groaned, putting his index finger to her chin and nudging her away.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Corrin said, settling back with her legs tucked underneath her. “He’s your favorite retainer, isn’t he?”

“He’s my only retainer.” Leo closed his book, setting it aside with a thoughtful look. “For now, at least.”

“Oh?” Corrin asked, intrigued. “Is Father planning on assigning you another one?”

“He’s been talking of it for years, although I haven’t heard anything new on that front,” Leo replied. “I’m personally considering taking on another, though. Asmund’s squire is due to be knighted this coming winter.”

“You don’t have to call him ‘Asmund’s squire,’” Corrin pointed out. “I remember Silas, however long it’s been.” She let out a wistful sigh, though a moment later a thought struck her. “...He could come visit me again if he was your retainer, couldn’t he? Niles comes with you all the time.”

Even in the gloomy lighting, she caught the corner of Leo’s lips turn up in a smirk. “Technically true, yes.”

“...You’d do that for me?”

“Who said I was doing it for you?” Leo asked. “He’s proven capable in every battle I’ve served with him, Niles doesn’t phase him, and the fact that he’s noble by birth will certainly appeal to Father. Silas is a sensible choice on just about every front I’ve thought through.” His smirk grew a fraction more. “And I’m sure he’d be very pleased to see you again, yes.”

“Have you talked to him yet?” Corrin asked, bouncing enough that the mattress beneath them creaked in protest.

“Not yet,” Leo said. “But to be fair, retainer to the second prince is nearly as high up as a knight can get.” He shrugged. “Unless he was to serve Xander, I suppose, but I can’t see Asmund and Viola retiring anytime soon. I can’t imagine he’ll refuse.” Thunder rumbled outside and Leo tilted his head. “Anyway, did you need something? Not afraid of the storm, are you?” His expression remained painfully smug, leaving Corrin no doubt he’d intentionally referenced the childhood memory she’d jumped to.

“Normal children find thunderstorms scary,” she protested.

“Normal children wouldn’t have bought Camilla’s ludicrously fantastical explanation that  _ ‘the cloud knights are having a jousting competition,’”  _ Leo shot back.

“I was seven! How was I supposed to know any better?”

“I knew better,” he answered haughtily. “And I’m younger than you.”

“You’re precocious.” Still, a fond smile had stolen its way onto Corrin’s features. She could remember huddling together under Leo’s covers in the dead of night, counting the seconds between flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder while he, at the wise old age of six, recounted scientific explanations of thunderstorms in exhaustive detail.

Somehow, she’d found his narrations even more comforting than Camilla’s soothing fairytales.

There was a hint of nostalgia on his face as well, then, for all that his face was hardly the same as it had been over a decade ago. Leo was hardly her chubby-cheeked baby brother anymore; more man than boy, with features so fine they almost rendered him more pretty than handsome. It wasn’t a wonder, she thought, that every time any sort of state function occurred at Krakenburg she inevitably heard Leo complaining of whatever simpering noble girls had cornered him when next he visited the fortress.

“Hey,” he said gently at present, leaving her to shake her head at the realization she’d been staring at him. “Corrin?”

“Are you still upset with me?” Corrin blurted.

“Upset?” Leo asked blankly. “Corrin, I haven’t been upset with you.”

“Haven’t you?” she asked. “This afternoon—”

“I wasn’t upset,” Leo hurried to say. “I apologize if I gave you that impression.” She could just make out a faint flush to his cheeks as he glanced away. His next words were so quiet she could scarcely make them out. “You frightened me.”

“I… What?” Corrin felt her face crumple into confusion.  _ Leo? Frightened?  _ It was a dichotomy of flabbergasting proportions, as if he had just informed her the Queen of Hoshido would be visiting for tea the next day. “There wasn’t anything to be frightened of.”

He let out a sardonic laugh. “Oh, believe me, I’m aware.” The quirk of his lips turned bitter. “If that’s all you were worried about then you can rest easy tonight.”

Corrin nodded slowly. “I see,” she whispered. “If you’re sure.” Leo had wrapped his arms around his chest, not quite crossed but with his right hand gripping his left elbow, and now he was glancing askance at the bedsheets. She couldn’t quite tell if he was blushing but his discomfort was plain to read. She rose from his bed, then turned back. “You know you can tell me anything, right? On my honor as a big sister, I’ll listen.”

Leo glanced up at her sharply, opening his mouth; not a sound came out, as though he’d quickly thought better of whatever he was going to say. “It’s embarrassing,” he finally said.

“I won’t make fun,” Corrin promised, taking her seat back. She held out a hand, her last finger extended in his direction. “Pinky promise.”

Leo made an exasperated sound in the back of his throat, lifting his eyes toward the ceiling. “Corrin, we’re not six.”

“A pinky promise doesn’t count if both people don’t agree,” Corrin insisted. “Or would you rather I teased you about it?”

He sighed, splaying one hand over his face as he extended the other in her direction. She locked her pinky in his, shaking firmly three times before letting go.

“Shoot,” Corrin said.

Leo’s hand fell from his face, though he didn’t look up from his lap. “When I was little—before Elise was born,” he started, “I nearly fell out of a sixth story window.”

A long moment passed before Corrin realized he wasn’t continuing. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said. “We all did silly things when we were kids. I almost swallowed a needle when I was six, remember?”

“It’s not—” Leo cut himself off with a slightly ragged breath. “It’s not that.”

Another long pause filled the air. “Is that why you don’t like heights?” she finally asked.

“It’s a large part of it, yes,” he admitted. “I don’t think I was very big on them before that, but it’s hard to remember much of that age. But after, for a long time I could hardly even manage—” He broke off. “Well. I’ve gotten better about it, now.”

Corrin reached out, settling her hand on one of his. “Everyone’s afraid of  _ something,  _ Leo,” she said. “You don’t need to be superhuman. And you don’t have to be ashamed about it.”

He twisted his hand around to clasp hers, finally looking up to meet her eyes for the first time since the subject had changed. “If I tell you the rest,” he said gravely, “you might never look at me, or at any of us, the same way.”

Corrin’s mouth went dry. The spark in Leo’s eyes had progressed passed fright, moving decidedly into genuine  _ fear.  _ But fear of what? Fear of her? Or fear of whatever he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her?

“Hey,” she finally got out, though the word was little more than a croak. “Big sister’s honor, yeah?”

Leo glanced away again, fixing his gaze on the darkened wall to the side. “I didn’t strictly fall, per se,” he finally admitted. “I was pushed.”

_ Pushed? _

Corrin blinked, her grip on Leo’s hand going slack. If this really had happened before Elise was born, he would have still been a child—a toddler, even, depending on how long before. “Who?”

“One of our siblings.”

Her mind balked again at that.

“Not Xander or Camilla,” he hurried to say. “Camilla saved me, actually. There were…” He drew in a breath. “There were more of us, once.”

_ What? _

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“No,” Corrin said. “You can’t just say that and not give me an explanation.”

Leo’s knee bounced for a moment, shifting the mattress again. “You’re right,” he said. “I suppose it’s rather unfair of me to hide it from you.” A flicker of something unreadable but pained crossed his face. “You know that we…” He paused, his brows pinching. “That all of us are half-siblings, yes?”

Corrin’s expression must have revealed that she had not, because Leo’s own turned apologetic. Frankly, to her sudden embarrassment, she’d never really pondered the idea. Garon was their father, and he’d never had a queen for as long as she could remember; on the other hand, Corrin’s memories cut off abruptly a few years earlier than she privately suspected they should have, at a point where Elise had already been born. Her supposition had always been that their mother had died somewhere before that point, and no one wished to discuss her out of their own grief.

But this…

“Xander’s mother was the first queen,” Leo explained quietly. “She died when he was very young. Camilla, Elise, and I are the children of various concubines he took after that point.”

“Oh,” Corrin said in a small voice.

“Any woman that caught Father’s eye, whether for political advantage or just because she had a pretty face and cooed the right words to him, was taken into the palace. Most of them had children at one point or another. For a while, there were nearly a dozen of us, all within a few years of age and all from different mothers.”

“But…” Corrin swallowed. “What happened?”

“Human nature happened,” Leo replied softly. “The concubines—and their children, to a lesser extent—grew jealous, discontent, and power-hungry. The women began to ply their children in front of Father, in hopes of earning themselves more favorable positions. The worst of it came when Father remarried. Arete—the new queen—hadn’t been one his concubines, though they’d had a daughter a few years prior. His other lovers grew discontent that he’d passed them over in favor of her. Within the year… the powerplays grew bloody.”

In the dark, Corrin had hardly noticed her vision blurring until hot tears spilled down her cheeks. If this had all been before Elise was born… even  _ Xander  _ would have still been a child.  _ “Leo.” _

He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, though the way he averted his gaze revealed it hadn’t been directed at Corrin. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” he said softly. “You don’t deserve to be burdened with that knowledge.”

Corrin sniffled, quickly wiping at her eyes. “No,” she said vehemently. “You didn’t deserve to  _ live  _ through that.” She pressed her palm to his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s over with now,” Leo replied quietly. “And none of us will ever let it happen again.”

Corrin nodded, taking a shaky breath. “I just… I can’t understand why.”

“Greed,” Leo said. “And ambition. The fewer people there were, the thinner the competition for both positions in court and for Father’s affections.”

“That’s horrific,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “And it did grow thinner, rather quickly. Poison was the most common culprit. One of the concubines attempted to hire a Hoshidan ninja as an assassin; she and her daughter were both executed for treason.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And the worst part was it all became  _ normal.  _ When I almost… almost fell, almost died, Camilla saved me. She ended up throwing our brother out the window before he could hurt me. We went to find my mother afterward. She promptly scolded us for waking her and told me to stop crying and go to bed.”

“...Leo, I…” Corrin broke off, her throat working.

“Don’t worry about mincing your words, Corrin,” Leo said. “I have no love lost for her. She was a bitter woman who believed the world owed her for the poor hand it had dealt her.” Corrin hoped the look she sent him hadn’t been too querying, but Leo elaborated anyways. “My mother was the last remaining child of the Grand Duke of Cheve. When Father conquered Cheve nineteen years ago, he executed the rest of the family. He only spared her to take her as a lover, with the agreement that she and any of her heirs would forever forfeit any claim to Cheve. It’s Nohrian territory now, anyway, but it was his safeguard against anyone trying to hold her up to incite revolution.” Another dry laugh escaped him. “Technically, without that agreement, I would be Cheve’s rightful heir.”

“I never knew,” Corrin said.

“Of course you didn’t. You weren’t supposed to.” Leo’s gaze softened. “You and Elise stayed out of it. We all wished to keep it that way.”

Corrin didn’t think. She merely surged forward, flinging her arms around Leo’s neck. For a long moment, he hesitated, before ever-so-slowly lifting his own arms to encircle her waist. He shuddered the tiniest bit in her grasp, the only tell-tale sign of how much mental effort it had taken him to tell her what he just had.

“Thank you,” she said. “For telling me. I know it wasn’t easy.” He nodded against her neck, as if he didn’t quite trust his voice. She shifted to stroke a hand over his hair. “You know… out of all our siblings, you’re the only that… that actually treats me like an adult, and not like a child.”

“You are an adult, Corrin,” Leo mumbled. “Or near enough to one, at least.” He shifted from her grasp, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that was endearingly self-conscious. “What reason would I have to treat you like anything else?”

Corrin smiled, though it faded quickly. “If you don’t mind me asking… what about my mother?”

Leo’s eyes went wide. He glanced away, his voice slightly guarded when he spoke. “A bit of a mystery,” he said. “You only came to the palace after she…” He cleared his throat. “After she died. And you were ill at the time, so you came here quite shortly.”

Corrin bit her lip, then said, “I see.” With a sigh, she gave his hand one last affectionate squeeze and got to her feet. “It’s late. I should get some sleep.”

“Corrin.”

There was a heavy note of something like guilt in Leo’s voice, one only amplified by the pained trace in his eyes when she turned back around. “Yeah?”

A long silence stretched out. Eventually, Leo shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Never mind. Sleep well.” He paused for a moment more, then added, “Sister.”

“You too,” she said with a soft smile. “I love you, little brother.”

The ghost of a smile tugged on Leo’s lips. “Love you too,” he murmured.

His door opened with a soft click, nearly drowned out by the still pounding rain outside. Another flash of lightning lit up the corridor, and for the briefest moment before she closed the door she almost thought Leo spoke again.

_ “I’m sorry.” _

 

_ FIN _


End file.
